


Perfect

by o0Anapher0o



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: With the Inspector gone off to England Hugh reflects on love and grand gestures.
Relationships: Hugh Collins/Dorothy "Dot" Williams, mentioned Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I really promised myself I would not be writing fanfiction until at least the end of February and deal with RL instead. Turns out I’m terrible at sticking to resolutions. Now I have a few shorts that have accumulated over the last couple of months and I’ll just put them out when I have time during December. Their unrelated and mostly non-Phrack-centric, just some things I couldn’t get out of my head. Not beat’d.
> 
> This one is in the category of ‘I heard that song and it made me think of these characters’ and because I haven’t really done much Dottie and Hugh so far, which is a shame.

> “It’s not a sunrise over canyons shaped like hearts  
>  It isn’t bursting into song in central park  
>  It’s not the outline of your face drawn in the stars  
>  It’s a still there Monday morning kind of love
> 
> There’s no dramatic declarations in the rain  
>  It’s not a love that finds its pleasure after pain  
>  I couldn’t train a bunch of doves to spell your name  
>  It’s a don’t know what they’re missing kind of love” (Tiny Love – Mika)*

It was strange being in City South knowing that the office at the end of the corridor was empty and that its regular occupant wouldn’t be back for the next few months. Hugh tried very hard not to sneak futile peaks at the door every couple of minutes, half expecting the Inspector to call for him. The name on the door had been taped over with butcher’s paper, ready to be imprinted with the name of whoever took over the post in the interim.  
The Inspector had been surprised when they had all come to bid him fare well at the docks. Hugh had only been surprised that the cabbies had shown up. He had never had the impression that they particularly liked Inspector Robinson. Apparently he had been wrong.  
Dr MacMillan had given the Inspector a slightly awkward hug and Dottie had kissed him on the cheek. Even Mr Butler had been there to shake the Inspector’s hand and wish him good luck.  
Officially the Inspector was on leave due to a family emergency, but Hugh knew, as well as everybody else in their little farewell party, that he was really going after Miss Fisher. Now that the northbound ship had long cleared the bay and Hugh was back at the station, trying in vain to concentrate on his work, he contemplated the grandness of this romantic gesture. He could only be awed by the Inspector’s courage. There was, in Hugh’s mind, no doubt that Inspector Robinson was one of, if no the bravest man he knew. Even on a regular day he had more admiration and respect for his mentor than he could put in words. Not that he was particularly good with words. Unlike the Inspector. But to get on a boat, risk everything you had to follow the woman you loved around the world? For Hugh, who had never in his life left the state of Victoria, let alone Australia, this seemed like the bravest thing possible. Facing of against armed crims was not nearly as terrifying as the tiniest chance of being rejected by that particular woman he knew. He remembered all too well how hard it had been to ask Dottie to the Firemen and Policemen’s ball and that had only required for him to go to Miss Fisher’s house, not all the way to England. This journey of the Inspector’s it seemed more like something out of the pictures.  
It seemed like the right thing for a woman like Miss Fisher, though. Miss Fisher with her bright and gaudy outfits, her golden pistol, outrageous adventures and general larger than life personality often seemed like she had climbed down from a screen herself. It felt only right that to woo her it should take outrageous, grandiose gestures.  
Hugh was heartedly glad he was not in love with Miss Fisher.  
The grandiose gestures never worked for him, and he had come to realise that he didn’t need them. It had taken him to actually marry Dot, to understand that but he had. When he had proposed to her he had imagined the most romantic scenarios. He had wanted poetry, scenic lockouts and sunsets. In the end they had been where they were every day, in Miss Fisher’s kitchen, with one candle, him stumbling over his words and her hands full of potato juice. And it had been perfect.  
The wedding had been the same. They had planned for ages, sent out invitations, talked about the catering, the flowers and about who was to sit next to whom in order to avoid the worst clashes. And then they had thrown it all overboard and pulled the wedding forward so they had been almost alone in the church except for the same people they saw nearly every day anyway. And again it had been perfect. Dottie had been the most beautiful bride he could imagine and he had never been so happy in his life.  
They had held the reception as planned two weeks later. After all everything had been organised and paid for. It had been a fun afternoon, with all the expected ruckus between their families, who were united only in their outrage about the elopement. People had drunk too much and his friend Tom had gotten in a punch up with one of Dot’s cousins that would have escalated into a full on brawl if the Inspector hadn’t thrown both of them out. The meeting with Dot’s sister had been all kinds of awkward and Hugh was fairly certain Dot’s mother had stepped on his toes on purpose when he danced with her.  
It had been the big wedding both of them had wanted, but romantic was something else entirely.  
He had decided then and there that he could do without scenic lookouts, grand weddings and romantic gestures. He had his Dottie and was very, very glad she was a humble and sensible woman who appreciated the little things and moments in life more than showy spectacle.  
He would be brave. Not by travelling the world for her but by supporting her in being a modern woman, letting her work for Miss Fisher once she was back, and trusting she would never do anything she couldn’t get herself out of again. Trusting that she was smart, sensible and capable. And he would show her his love not by flowery declarations but by continuing to be the best, most attentive husband he could be. He would try what he could to win over her family and convince his own that Dottie was the best thing that could have happened to him. And he would safe up and one day, not too far in the future, buy them a house of their own. That was as grand as he was willing to go at this point.  
If he was very lucky indeed Dot would return his small gestures and efforts with her own, like continuing to bring him lunch at the station, like she had done the last couple of weeks, usually, he peeked at the clock, right about…  
The station door opened and Mrs Collins came in with a picnic basket on her arm. Her face lit up at the sight of her husband who returned her bright smile with a happy beam of his own.  
“Hello Hugh, I brought you lunch.” she said.  
And in this moment Hugh’s life was perfect.

* Mika & David Sneddon. 2019. “Tiny Love“ _My name is Michael Holbrook_. Prod. Mark Crew & Dan Priddy. Universal.


End file.
